


You're Everyone That Ever Cared

by riddikulusgrin (klavgavtrash)



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Bickering, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 14:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3175514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klavgavtrash/pseuds/riddikulusgrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt's kind of had a thing for Hermann since the beginning of time, which is fine. He's dealing with it. Totally not pining or anything.</p><p>Only then there's the drift, and the dreams, and memories that aren't his own. And on top of everything, Hermann's started acting all un-Hermann-like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a 1k character study but the finished thing is almost 9k. I don't know what happened. It's my first time writing a Pacific Rim fic, I really enjoyed trying to get in Newt's head. 
> 
> The title's from "John I'm Only Dancing", taken out of context, because it is my strong belief that Newt would be a David Bowie fan.

The first time Newt laid eyes on Doctor Hermann Gottlieb in the flesh, his thoughts were something along the lines of “hot damn". Unfortunately, this illusion of a rather perfect Gottlieb, who was smart and attractive and didn't hate him, kind of crumpled the minute Newt opened his big dumb mouth. 

“Doctor Gieszler, we’ve been corresponding. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, I’m sure.” Gottlieb had said, with a tight smile. 

“Dude, are you kidding me, you actually talk like that?” That level of formality in written communication, Newt could understand, but in regular speech? Really? Apparently so. And, ok, Newt could admit that he found it kind of funny, and that he’d laughed a bit, and that Hermann had been more than a little offended. 

And then, well, it had all gone downhill after that. 

The two of them, despite kind of hating each other, were shunted from Shatterdome to Shatterdome together. Newt guessed they kind of worked well as a unit, even if they were always at each other’s throats. Hermann (and he was Hermann, not Doctor Gottlieb, because they'd known each other for years) disapproved of literally everything Newt did. He had too many doctorates; he was too enthused by his own area of study; he was unprofessional, his ever-expanding collection of tattoos were vulgar. 

Ok, fair enough, Hermann never said that last one aloud. But Newt could tell. Whenever he returned from his tattoo artist with new lines or colours Hermann would do this _thing_. He kinda glared at the new ink, blinked slowly, and then ran his teeth over his lip, like the images had personally pissed him off somehow. 

It was, well it was kind of disheartening at first, but during their acquaintance Newt was able to finish off his sleeves and start covering his chest. The important thing, he reminded Hermann whenever his ink offended a too-sensitive Jaeger pilot, was that his tattoos made _him_ happy. Hermann rolled his eyes at this, or told Newt that he was being insensitive, or spat out the words “Kaiju groupie.” And yeah, Hermann could go fuck himself, Newt’s tattoos were awesome. 

Ten years down the line, and they were the only research devision left in the very last Shatterdome. They were apparently being paid by, like, voodoo or something, since the government certainly weren’t funding them anymore. 

(He mentions this to Hermann, one day, asks who’s even paying for them now all the big shots think the Jaeger program’s a bust, and Hermann gets all tense and weird. He says, almost too fast, that he’s sure Pentecost is managing, and it’s better working at the Shatterdome than giving their time to the disaster that is the coastal wall project. Newt then remembers that Hermann’s father used to be one of of the Jaeger Project funders, and he can totally get why Hermann would be happier not being on his dad’s payroll. That relationship seems to be a whole other can of worms.)

Thing is, he realises pretty soon into the job that he’d literally prefer to work nowhere else, or with anyone else. Pentecost is scary as shit, true, but Mako is like the little sister he never had. One who’s infinitely cooler and generally superior to him, and probably doesn’t view him as much of an older brother, but whatever. And Tendo and a couple of the other techies are good for a laugh. But really, he’s there for Hermann.

Shame Hermann doesn't seem to feel the same, if the constant complaints to Human Resources are anything to go by. Not that they get him anywhere, since Newt's not entirely sure the Human Resource Department in the Hong Kong Shatterdome is even a real thing?  Seriously, all he gets is Hermann’s complaint automatically forwarded to his PPDC email with a little additional message saying that he’s had a complaint filed against him and that it’s on record. (What record? What happens if he gets too many strikes on that record? Who’s recording this? These are all the questions he fires off into the void and gets no response to.) 

Still, it's fun to wind Hermann up about it, which is what he does. Frequently.

“So Hermann, I hear you filed another complaint about me?”

Hermann twists around immediately, wobbling a little on his ladder, chalk in hand. Newt rises from his seat, suddenly worried he’ll fall. But no, Hermann’s stable on the ladder and glaring at him. “Who told you?”

“I didn't need to be told, man, I just got another one of those warning emails.”

“Well?” says Hermann.

“Well?”

“Well, are you going to stop leaving containers contaminated by Kaiju Blue in the communal sink, now?”

Newt knows that Hermann’s probably right that that was a stupid idea, but it was one time and he was kind of drunk. It wasn't like Hermann was even inconvenienced in any way, he never uses the sink for anything other than washing chalk dust off his hands. It was Newt who mistook the plastic dish for takeout remains and almost fished it out without protective gloves. But he’s not going to give in like Hermann so clearly wants him to.

“It was minuscule amounts, dude!”

“It was a toxic substance and could’ve posed a serious health risk, as you very well know,” says Hermann furiously, wobbling a little on the ladder again. Newt wants to get up and steady the damn thing, but he’s going for the whole laid back persona at the moment, so he stays where he is, sprawled in his desk chair. 

“Aw, worried about me, Herms?”

“Don’t call me that,” says Hermann, finally descending the ladder and depositing his chalk of the ledge of the blackboard. “And yes, since apparently you’re incapable of worrying about your own safety.” His tone is withering, but Newt grins at him. 

“I’m touched,” he says, and then, when he thinks that maybe his tone was too genuine, he adds, “but I’m fine, honestly Hermann. Actually, you know what? I resent that. I deal with dangerous substances daily and I’m still here. I can handle my own safety. Your biggest concerns are falling off that ladder and - I don't know - inhaling chalk dust.” 

Hermann snatches up his cane and walks towards him, stopping directly in front of him and  leaning over so their faces are inches apart. Newt blinks a little because, um, that “hot damn” thing had never exactly gone away and having a furious, infuriating, attractive person close enough that he can feel their breath on his face makes his insides do funny things. 

Hermann looks livid, but it's the normal kind of livid that Newt accidentally evokes in Hermann at least once a day, so he’s not too worried as Hermann hisses, “I’m sorry if I didn’t choose a profession that means that, on top of the danger that naturally comes with working closely with Jaegers and Kaijus, I voluntary stick my hands into their highly toxic and damaging insides.”  

Newt pushes the chair back a little because he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten to breath, and tries a half-smile. Hermann, having made his point, looks a little calmer. So of course, Newt thinks this is the perfect time to put his foot in it and say, confident as anything, “Yeah, on the danger thing. What d’you reckon my chances are of literally dying if I drift with the severed brain tissue of a dead Kaiju?”

 

-

 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck ok Hermann was right drifting with a Kaiju was stupid and irresponsible and whatever other words he’d used, but once he’s stopped literally seizing on the floor, he’s able to offer Pentecost valuable information. 

Before, it always felt like Pentecost mostly just put up with him, but now he pays attention. Hermann was the one with the useful data, with his solid numbers and predictions, while Newt had these outlandish and completely-brilliant-yet-misunderstood theories like “Hey, what if the Kaijus are all clones?”

And so he’s got the details on some Kaiju collector and the go-ahead to try drifting again, and he’s actually pretty feeling pretty good. You know, despite the crashing headache and the pain in his eye that means nothing's quite in focus and the blood that will continue dripping from his nose if he so much as touches it. 

He can do this. He can meet this Hannibal Chau guy and ask him for a brain and he can do it as soon as possible. This is urgent, this is a proper mission, and he’s ready to follow Pentecost right out that door only Hermann grabs his arm. 

“Newton, _please_.” He sounds desperate, which Newt wasn't expecting, so he turns to look. Hermann’s face is twisted into something Newt supposes must be fear. For him. Wow, he should suffer minor epileptic fits more often if it makes Hermann look at him with those burning, intense eyes. 

“What?” he says, his voice carefully light. 

“Don’t do that to yourself again. That was only a fragment, a whole secondary brain would kill you.”

Newton tries to shrug off Hermann’s hand, defensive. Hermann keeps hold. “Who’s the biologist here?”

“Newton-“

“Because I’m pretty sure it’s not you.”

“I really think that-“

“Hermann, look, I’m really glad you’re apparently experiencing compassion all of a sudden after hating me for like a decade, but your timing couldn’t be worse, dude.” 

Hermann lets his hand drop, sliding it down Newt's arm a little. His eyes are wide. “You think I- _hating_ you-“ he splutters. He thumps his cane against the ground.  His next words are measured. “Newton, I have always considered you something of a friend.”

Newt blinks. “Really? That's awesome.”

Hermann purses his lips, and for a moment he reminds Newt of a lizard. His eyes are narrowed and his mouth looks super wide and - whoops, now he’s thinking about Hermann’s mouth and his lips and how did he get onto this train of thought when he was thinking about lizards? God, this isn't helping his case that he hasn't got some weird sexual fascination with the giant lizards he’s dedicated his life's research to. Thank God he hasn't said anything out loud, although Hermann is looking at him kind of oddly and he wonders if maybe he’s been staring a little too long, or if Hermann’s said something while Newt has been distracted by lizards and how hot he is. That sounds bad, but they're two separate things. Hermann is hot, and also he sometimes looks a bit like a lizard. Good, settled. He can focus on what's actually happening around him now. 

“As your friend, I am asking you not to do this.” 

Newt takes a second to reorientate himself, banishing lizards from his mind and avoiding looking a Hermann’s mouth at all costs. “As my friend, you should let me be a rockstar.”

“This is not about being a _rockstar_ ,” he says, his voice dripping with contempt. “It is about not risking inducing another seizure mere hours after the first. I have half a mind to come with you, just to make sure you don’t-“

“Why don't you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Why don’t you come with?” says Newt, tone rising excitedly. He imagines this Hannibal Chau guy will be pretty scary, and it’d be cool to have Hermann with him. “It’d be awesome to have your help, and you can check I don't get into trouble or whatever.”

Hermann looks at his hand, which is clenched on his cane. He glances back and Newt with a tight smile. “I would love to, but I’m rather afraid the Marshall hasn’t fully acknowledged the implications of my warning of a potential double attack, and I am needed here.”

“Right. Yeah.” says Newt, deflating a little. “I hear you.” 

 

-

 

Drifting with Hermann and the Kaiju foetus is amazing and exhilarating and painful and terrifying. He doesn’t have much time to acknowledge the swirls of Hermann’s memories that are filling his brain, pushing them aside for the immediate threat. 

It’s not until he’s alone that evening, hiding in his room to avoid the celebrating masses, that he goes through them. He doesn't mean to, he feels a little bad about it, in all honestly. Hermann only offered to save his life, and he's essentially prying. 

Newt knows he doesn't have enough willpower to ignore the neural link, though, not when he actually _wants_ to dig into Hermann's mind. He's curious about his colleague/friend, so sue him.  He sits down on the bed, head leaning back against the wall, his legs drawn up so he can rest his arms on them, and closes his eyes.

Hermann's memories flood his mind immediately, like they've been waiting to surface. Like when they drifted, they flicker past at speed, years taking seconds. He doesn't let himself be caught up on any particular one, just explores them all. He learns more about Hermann in the minute or so he spends with his eyes shut than he had in their decade of knowing each other previously. 

He'd known about Hermann's parents, had been vaguely aware he had siblings, too. He'd figured as much back when they were young and sending each other letters. He hadn't realised quite how hard Lars Gottlieb had been on his son, though, or that following an argument he didn't hover on long enough to get the details of, Hermann and his father had cut all ties. 

He'd heard about Hermann's long time girlfriend - not that Hermann had ever used that term to describe the beautiful model he'd dated for years, and only broken up with a few months before his relocation to the Hong Kong Shatterdome. Yeah, he definitely remembers her, or at least the embarrassing, twisting jealousy he'd felt every time Hermann had mentioned her. What Newt hadn't known until the drift, however, is that Vanessa had been Hermann's first and only serious relationship. There'd been nobody since, apparently, and that made Newt kind of sad. The breakup, which he lingers on for only a second, hits him with a strong sense of second-hand self-loathing. Newt wants to jerk his eyes open, leave the bed, go find Hermann and hug him or something. 

But he doesn't, and Hermann's memories switch to the Shatterdome and sharing a lab with Newt and then Newt really does open his eyes because those memories are filed with fondness and exasperation and the moment he sees himself through Hermann’s eyes it’s all too weird and he has to stop. He doesn’t think Hermann clocks the change, which is relief, doesn't realise that Newt's argumentative streak had increased when they reached Hong Kong because Newt had stopped thinking that Hermann was weird and maybe a little hot, and started thinking that Hermann was weird and hot and that he basically wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. 

He bangs his head against the wall, doesn't close his eyes for fear of seeing his own lovestruck expression through Hermann's memories. He's so unbelievably fucked. 

 

-

 

Newt’s got his phone on shuffle, playing music super loud as he tidies his half of the shared lab. Technically, the Shatterdome is staying open indefinitely, but he wants to get his Kaiju samples safely packed away and preserved as soon as possible. There’s a limit to the longevity of organic matter, and now there’s a limit to the number of Kaiju samples available, too. 

Also, he'd kind of had a dream, where he flickered from his own mind to Hermann’s to the Kaiju hivemind, which had woken him up at about four a.m. He’d tossed and turned for a bit before having another dream entirely through Hermann's eyes, where Newt hadn’t been present, but his half of the lab had looked like a cesspit of filth. So he'd woken up at like seven with the overwhelming urge to clean it, and just kind of run with it.

He starts dancing as he works, nothing major at first. The lab’s empty, so he doesn't feel any need to keep quiet as he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet to the [Bowie track](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XACXQU_6gQI) that’s just started up. He clears his desk space with a dramatic sweep of his arm, scattering a few papers, and starts singing along. 

It’s a good song, and he's been feeling down ever since his foray into Hermann's memories. So what if he gets a little into it, when there’s nobody there to watch him? He lets himself go, air guitar-ing the riff as he crosses the lab to the toxic waste bin.

_“‘Till there was rock you only had God”_ are basically words to live by, and Newt just kind of belts them out, thinking of Hermann and his “handwriting of God” shtick. The forceps in his hand become a microphone, and he gives up on tidying.

He’s singing along to the chorus, doing some pretty impressive hip grinding, when he hears something clatter to the floor and spins around to face the doorway. He falls silent when he sees Hermann, standing stock still, cane on the floor. That was what clattered, then. 

He reaches behind him and cuts of the music abruptly. He can feel his face starting to heat, and he puts the forceps back on the desk. “Oh, hey Hermann. I didn’t see you come in.” His voice is so high. Like, higher than normal, which is actually kind of embarrassing, and Hermann is just kind of staring, and maybe twitching a little, and surely his singing isn’t that terrible?

“I hardly think -“ Hermann starts jerkily, his face going kind of red, too, “I hardly think that’s appropriate.”

“Huh?”

“The- um, the lyrics.” 

Oh. Right. Newt remembers what song had been playing, and how he'd been dancing. _Sweet Head_. He had totally just been singing about blow jobs. Loudly. 

Hermann still hasn’t picked up his cane, and they stare at each other for a long moment, both red in the face. There’s pretty much just a string of mortified swear words going around Newt’s head, and he’s very aware that this is their first actual interaction since the saving-the-world thing yesterday.

If Hermann wasn’t already horrified that he and Newt had been drift compatible (and Mako had assured him they were) he probably was now. 

Seeing no other way out of the entirely awkward atmosphere that had settled over them, Newt grins. “Aw, Herms, sex is perfectly nat-“

“Shut up,” says Hermann, glaring at him. But he does lean down slowly to pick up his cane, and then walk further into the room, moving over to his chalk board. The weird atmosphere breaks apart, and Newt’s grin slides into something more genuine. 

Newt doesn't feel like tidying the lab anymore. Instead, he stands where he is, watching as Hermann goes over to his chalk board, picks up his chalk, and just... stares. 

"Anything the matter?" he asks conversationally. He peels off his latex gloves and drops them onto the nearest surface, leaning back against his desk and watching as Hermann continues to stare at his calculations. "Drop a decimal point, or something?"

Hermann doesn't even respond to the prodding, still staring at the board, chalk in hand. Newt stiffens a little, he doesn't think he's ever seen Hermann go so long without writing something on that board, even if he's just checking over calculations. "Seriously, is something wrong?"

"No..." says Hermann slowly, staring at the board still, "I'm just wondering... Newton, what is there left to work out?" 

Newt opens his mouth to scoff, come up with a response, but his brain seems to grind to a halt. "Shit, I hadn't thought about that." 

Hermann turns to look at him now, his brow furrowed. "I suppose I should go back to working with the purely theoretical, and you can still study Kaiju anatomy and so on, and yet-"

"There's no need for us to stay at the Shatterdome.”

“Please don’t finish my sentences for me.”

“But I knew what you were gunna say!” says Newt indignantly. Hermann sniffs. 

“Nevertheless.”

Like they hadn’t effectively shared a brain yesterday, _honestly._ “Fine. I’d already come to that realisation, is all. That’s kind of why I was tidying.”

Hermann’s lip twitches. “That was tidying, was it?”

“No, that was dancing,” says Newt, “but before that I was tidying.” he spreads his arms wide, showing off his lab space. 

“I suppose it’s a little less disgusting,” admits Hermann, and Newt beams. 

“Hell yeah it’s clean. Got up at the asscrack of dawn just for you, asshole.” No need to mention it was basically for himself, since apparently if you drift with somebody you’re able to pick up some of their compulsions. 

Hermann looks kind of touched. “For me?”

Newt nods. “Yep. Seeing it through your eyes changed me, dude.”

Hermann opens his mouth, then closes it again, and he looks away deliberately, mumbling something Newt doesn’t catch. 

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” says Hermann, and he’s still not looking at him, which Newt hates because he’s not sure what he just did wrong. He’s started drumming his fingers on the desk, and he knows he’s filling up with nervous energy and he’ll be up and pacing about the lab any second, and Hermann hates it when he does that but he can’t help it. 

He thinks he can control it, but apparently not, because he stamps his foot involuntarily and Hermann’s head snaps up. It’s a sign of their long relationship that Hermann doesn’t comment, merely raises his eyebrows. 

It’s all Newt needs to stop leaning on the desk and begin talking. “Look, I know you’ve probably got your reasons but can we, like, not do this? Because I really don’t think we should do this.”

“Do what?” Hermann’s tone is annoyingly calm. 

“You know what!” Newt practically explodes, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Pretend like the drift didn’t even happen and refuse to talk about it!”

“I’ve done no such thing.”

“Yes you have, just now! I’m in your brain, Hermann. Or I was,” says Newt.

“I apologise,” says Hermann. It’s not really enough, but Newt calms down just a little. There’s a moment of quiet in which Newt gets his breathing under control. Then Hermann says, “So, we’re not needed in the Shatterdome, eh?”

It’s a hideously obvious attempt to change the topic, honestly, but he lets it pass because he’s awesome like that. “Well, yeah, but neither’s anybody else.”

“I suppose we should start searching for new jobs.”

The idea of leaving the Shatterdome, and, more importantly, Hermann, makes something twinge unpleasantly in his chest. But Newt nods. “Reckon so. But who’d hire us?”

Hermann actually smiles. “Newton, we saved the world. We are, to use your terminology, _rock stars._ ”

“Hell yeah, we are,” says Newt. He hadn’t actually thought about the rock star thing since before the second drift. Somehow, actually saving the world got in the way of fantasising about saving the world. Apparently, just like his dream of seeing a Kaiju up close, the reality was actually kind of shitty and scary, and a bunch of people died. 

Still, that’s two out of three on his bucket list in one day, and number three is making out with Hermann. That, at least, wouldn’t end up in death and destruction, even if Hermann turned out to be a shit kisser, and he basically couldn’t be since he bagged a model girlfriend. Unless Newt was a shit kisser? He did have a whole run of ex-girlfriends and -boyfriends from the last ten years but most of them left because Newt was both a rubbish boyfriend and kind of in love with somebody else, not because he’s bad at kissing. He thinks.  

Hermann’s looking at him expectantly, only Newt totally zoned out there. Honesty is the best policy. “Dude, I missed all of that. Try again.”

Hermann, by some kind of miracle, only looks marginally annoyed. “I suggested we look for work together,” he says.

“What kind of work is there for a biologist and a mathematician?” says Newt dumbly. 

“You’re right, it’s a silly suggestion-“

“No, I love it,” says Newt quickly, “We could quit field work and go into academia, or something.” A bubble of self-doubt rises up, and he says, before he can stop himself, “You sure you want to put up with me, though?”

Hermann shakes his head. “I thought we established this, Newt. I consider you a friend.”

Hermann’s eyes are filled with that intensity again, and Newt remembers how all Hermann’s memories of him are tinted with fondness, and he basically can’t be held responsible for his actions as he strides across the room, pulling Hermann into a hug. 

Hermann only stiffens for a moment before he hugs back, arms siding around Newt, his hands resting on his back. Thankfully, Hermann’s not a back-patting, no-homo hugger. 

It occurs to Newt as he steps away that if he can identify Hermann’s emotions in his memories then, surely, Hermann must know that Newt’s attracted to him. In which case, he has probably realised that Newt’s feelings run a little deeper than even Newt himself is comfortable with. And yet he’s still ok with hugging him, and suggesting they plan their lives around each other, and that’s probably a sign that Newt has somehow got ahold of a genuine, functioning friendship.

The thought makes him want to hug Hermann again, but he settles for bouncing on the balls of his feet and blushing a bit, although that’s mostly because of the hugging. It should be embarrassing, but isn’t because Hermann either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.

But he doesn’t want to push his luck, so he takes a step back, smiles a half-smile, and sticks out his hand for Hermann to shake. “It’d be an honour working with you, Doctor Gottlieb.”

Hermann smiles. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the summary because I'm fickle. Also, I like this part way more than the last one.

Another Kaiju dream. Newt gets to sleep at two in the morning and is awake and sweating by three. His hair’s sticking to his forehead, and he feels hot and clammy, even though he’s kicked his covers off and should be feeling the chill. 

The night before his dreams had flitted between view points, but tonight had been all Kaiju. Their bodies had been Newt’s, their impulses and desire to conquer, to destroy, all Newt’s too. His skin prickles and the images of death are clear in his brain. 

The breach has been closed, he knows the breach is closed, he trusts Hermann’s calculations and LOCCENT’s tech, but in his mind it’s as open as ever. He wants to get up, go to the lab, check all of Hermann’s calculations, make sure they’re isn’t a glaring error somewhere. Make sure all his Kaiju samples are dead and refrigerated. Kill every scrap of Kaiju brain tissue they still have in the Shatterdome, and then go to all the Bone Slums in Hong Kong and demand they destroy all their brain samples too because _what if they’re still alive and communicating somehow?_  

The voice of reason in Newt’s mind has belonged to Hermann even since before the drift, and it comes to his rescue now. He lets the terror fade slowly, then reaches down and pulls his duvet off the floor, covering himself with it but not really appreciating the extra warmth. 

He doesn’t want that voice of reason, he wants the real thing. He wants Hermann to appear and tell him exactly, using maths Newt’s kind of scared he’ll fully understand now, how the breach will never, ever open again. 

Newt doesn’t know what’s more frightening: the idea of the breach reopening or the weird little nagging in the back of his head that wants it to. Because that isn’t _his_ want, he knows it isn’t, even if it feels like it is. It’s the Kaiju’s.

He turns over in his bunk, punches the pillow in a half-hearted attempt to soften it, pulls the duvet up to his chin like a little kid. But then he’s just staring at the bottom edge of the band poster he’s got up over his bed. It’s a great group, a glam-revival indie rock band from New York whose album artwork always features a lot of Kaiju imagery. He likes them even more because Hermann actively hates them, but now he just stares at the curled corners and thinks about how he’s a grown-ass man with music posters all over his room. Hermann’s room doesn’t have posters, or Kaiju anatomy sketches taped to the walls, and that cinches it. 

He kicks off the covers again, sits up and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He paws at his bedside table to find his glasses and shoves them on, but makes no other effort to dress for leaving his room. 

He’s only in boxers and a t-shirt, but he’s at least relatively certain that nobody else will be walking around the compound’s sleeping quarters at - he checks his clock - 3:30 am. 

He’s literally outside Hermann’s door and about to knock before it occurs to him that a) Hermann might be asleep and b) Hermann might not want to see him. He knocks anyway, and hears a grumbling "come in" from the other side of the door.

He pushes it open, suddenly self conscious. "I thought it'd be you,” says Hermann. 

He's sitting up in bed with the side light on, a book resting in front of him, open face down. He looks so very _Hermann_ , doused in the light of the lamp, reading glasses propped on the end of his nose. Newt imagines, briefly, crawling onto Hermann's lap and taking his face in his hands, pushing his reading glasses up his nose and kissing him slow and languidly. He does no such thing, obviously.

"What can I do for you, Newton?"

"I couldn't sleep,” says Newt, stepping further into the room and shutting the door.

"Yes, I figured as much. I'm yet to even try." Hermann nods to the end of his bed. “I suppose you could talk about it,” he says. Newt flops down at Hermann’s feet, careful not to knock his leg, though he knows Hermann wouldn’t say anything even if it was hurting him. He could be annoyingly stubborn about things like that. 

“It’s the fucking drift, man. It’s screwing with my dreams.”

Hermann nods. “I experienced the same, a rather… disturbing dream most likely taken from the mind of the Kaiju we drifted with.”

Newt nods understandingly. He has to ask. He knows Hermann will call him ridiculous, but he has to ask. “Uh, Hermann, it isn’t- it’s not possible that the breach could ever open again, right?”

“I doubt it, but I haven’t run any calculations to check,” Hermann says slowly. He he sits up straighter and looks, oddly, excited. “Newton, that’s it! I can focus my research in the probability of the breach reopening.”

“Er, that’s great,” says Newt. Not what he’d been getting at, and hardly the firm “no” he had been hoping for. 

Hermann is oblivious, he’s got the look in his eyes that means he’s had a brainwave. “Of course, the breach physics will be more theoretical than I’ve worked with in a while, but I have a large pool of existing data. This is- this is perfect, thank you.”

Hermann is waiting for a response. Newt doesn’t know what to say, and Hermann’s smile fades. He examines Newt over the top of his reading glasses. “You were looking for reassurance, I’m sorry.”

Newt nods, looking down at his hands. Hermann sighs deeply. There’s the creaking of bedsprings and Newt looks over as Hermann shuffles sideways so he’s against the wall. “Come here,” he says. 

“Like, sit next to you?” Newt’s pretty sure he sounds a bit freaked out. The bunks are reasonably wide, but still, there’s no way to sit next to Hermann without the whole left side of his body touching him. 

Hermann rolls his eyes, “I’m attempting to offer comfort.”

Newt laughs, only it ends up sounding slightly hysterical. “Sure. Sure you are.” He gets up from the bed, sits back down so his back is resting on Hermann’s pillows. Thankfully, he’s on top of the covers and sitting mostly upright, since Newt’s not sure he could deal with the implications of sliding into bed next to Hermann without spontaneously combusting. 

Hermann’s wearing ridiculous pinstriped flannel pyjamas, and the material rubs against Newt’s bare leg as he stretches them out in front of him. Maybe he should have put on pants, because the contact is way too distracting. 

Within moments, Hermann pulls him into an awkward hug which pretty effectively banishes all Newt’s thoughts about Kaijus and the breach because _oh my god Hermann actually initiated physical contact what do I do?_

His face is kind of pressed against Hermann’s neck, and he doesn’t know what to do with his arms, which have kind of been pinned to his sides, and he’s twisted pretty awkwardly, but Hermann lets go before Newt can say anything. He coughs, looking down at the book still in his lap. “Newt…” he murmurs. 

Newt waits for the rest of the sentence, but there doesn’t seem to be one, so he just rests his head on Hermann’s shoulder. They sit in silence, and eventually Hermann picks up his book again. Newt stares at the wall for a bit, before letting his eyes flicker to the pages of the paperback in Hermann’s hands, which appears to be on rationalism. Which, well, let’s just say that in the past, Newt would have probably made a comment on just how predictable Hermann was. While he was resting his head on Hermann’s shoulder, having just been _hugged_ by him, such a comment would be an outright lie. At this moment in time, Hermann most certainly wasn’t acting predictably. 

Newt’s sure he’s being discreet with the reading thing, but he soon notices that Hermann is angling the book a little in his direction. He lingers a little on each page, which must be so Newt can reach the end before he turns it over. Newt shuffles down the bed a little, rests his head on Hermann’s chest instead. Hermann’s breathing stutters for a moment before returning to a steady rhythm. No words are exchanged as Hermann adjusts his position, too, lowering himself down so he’s lying almost flat, book propped open on his chest. 

Newt has little to zero interest in rationalist philosophy, or really organised philosophy in any capacity. He’s more of a “why are we even here, does life have meaning?” kind of philosophy guy himself. And he steers away from those kind of thoughts most of the time, since they ramp his disassociation up to eleven. But leaning against Hermann, feeling the warm heat radiating from him and the slight rise and fall of his chest as he breaths is pretty great. And the book’s interesting, in a “this is what Hermann reads” way, but not interesting enough that he doesn’t struggle to keep his eyes open.

When they eventually shut, Hermann begins reading aloud in a voice uncharacteristically low and tender. After what must be barely a paragraph, Newt’s paying more attention to Hermann’s tone than the concepts he’s describing, and soon after that, he’s asleep.

 

-

 

Newt wakes up with the half of the duvet he’s not lying on top of thrown over him, and a weird disorientation that takes a moment to clear. The digital clock by the bed tells him it’s 11:42 a.m. He’s in Hermann’s room, and his glasses and a note sit on top of a pristine copy of _Rationalism in Ancient Philosophies_ on the bedside table.

 

_Newton -_

_I have left you to sleep, since your dreams seemed undisrupted and I didn’t want to jeopardise what appears to be your first genuine rest in days._

_I’ll be in the lab._

_Hermann_

 

Newt remembers the night before, but in his daze it doesn’t seem one hundred percent real. But then, even his stupidest, sappiest fantasies don’t consist of lying half on top of Hermann while he reads him philosophy. So it probably happened. 

It occurs to him that if anybody sees him exiting Hermann’s bedroom late morning wearing nothing but boxers and a t-shirt, they’ll probably jump to the wrong conclusions. He considers putting on Hermann’s dressing gown, which is hung neatly on a peg by the storage units, but that’d probably be even more incriminating. 

He resolves to walk back to his room like he has every reason to be strutting around the compound only half-dressed, and just pray he doesn’t bump into anybody. Of course, that means he crosses paths with the guy Mako saved the world with almost immediately. Raleigh doesn’t actually say anything, just kind of politely averts his eyes when he sees him leaving Hermann’s room. Hopefully it won’t get back to either Mako, Tendo or Herc Hansen, all of whom he knows Raleigh is friendly with.

He dresses hurriedly and doesn’t bother showering, strangely anxious to get to the lab. He wants to talk to Hermann. Not bicker, not skate around the topic, actually talk. About the drift. Because really, they should’ve talked about it last night, only somehow they ended up snuggling instead. There is no other word for it. He has literally snuggled with Doctor Hermann Gottlieb (and he’d do it again!)

Newt figures that he should probably start organising his findings from the past few days sooner rather than later. Yesterday had been a day off, spent organising the lab and his brain space (somewhat), but now he should at least start writing up his findings. The public would, of course, be clamouring for an academic paper on Newt's observations of the Anteverse based on his experiences drifting with Kaiju.

Still, he hates writing papers. He's good at it, sure, but it's just so boring. He'd much rather be _discovering_ than _documenting_. Newt realises, with a sinking feeling, that with the breach closed and no new Kaiju, a lot of his work is going to be the latter, now.

He bumps into exactly nobody on his way to the lab, which is typical. Of course Hero McChiseled-Jaw would be there to see him when he was in only boxers and a t shirt, crossing the tiny distance between his and Hermann's rooms, but the much longer walk to the lab would be abandoned. 

Hermann's at his chalk board, and to Newt's relief, he's writing again. It'd been weird in the lab yesterday, not hearing the clack of Hermann's chalk furiously scribbling on those boards.

Newt sidles over to the desk, not sure if Hermann's noticed him, but not wanting to say anything in case Hermann had, but was just absorbed in his calculations. See, Newt could be considerate. He slides his laptop out from under a pile of scribbled notes, then starts searching through those notes for the useful ones. He can't remember where he put his voice recorder, which is basically a tragedy. After a few minutes of searching for it, the chalk noises stop.

“Newton," says Hermann, oddly stiffly. 

"Heya, Hermann. Noticed me at last? Haven't seen my voice recorder, have you?"

Newt looks up from the pile when Hermann doesn’t vocalise anything, and realises he's shaking his head. “Great," says Newt sarcastically, "That's great. All my best observations are on that thing."  

Hermann grimaces. "And a message to me, should you die attempting a neural link with a Kaiju.”

Shit. Newt had totally forgotten about that. He grimaces, trying to convey an apology through his expression. ”Yeah, that was a dumb idea. But, like, I wasn’t planning on dying, so..."

"Not the point,” says Hermann quietly, putting his chalk down, picking up his cane, and walking towards him. 

“Sorry,” says Newt. Then, "How do you even know about that?"

"It's in your memories."

Ah. Right. The drift. Which was actually what Newt had been meaning to talk about, and this was totally an opening as long as he didn't fuck up and say something too personal. If he did that, Hermann would close off, and the conversation would be completely shut down. He has to tread lightly. "About that. Er- exactly how much of my life do you remember?"

"All of it, I'd imagine,” says Hermann, and Newt's stomach drops. Yeah, that sounds about right. "But I've been making some effort not to dig too deep, leaving you with some privacy."

"Thats-" not what Newt was expecting. "Really nice of you, Hermann."

Hermann's expression is weird. Newt's not quite sure what's going on, or what he's expected to say next when Hermann murmurs, "I had a dream through your eyes last night."

"Um..."

Hermann has somehow managed to get from the chalkboard to Newt's desk without him noticing, and now he's kind of crowding him? Kind of? Against his desk. Newt's lower back pressing against the surface’s edge. 

Hermann's voice is low. The hairs on Newt’s neck are prickling and he very much wants to pull him even closer, which is ridiculous. "I saw myself through your eyes, Newton."

Oh shit. Newt should probably apologise, right? Like, the best thing to do here would be to apologise for the inappropriate thoughts or whatever that Hermann had seen in his head. Only Hermann's looking at him intensely, and Newt can't make himself say the words. When he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a highly embarrassing squeaking noise. Hermann doesn’t even seem surprised. 

"You've examined my memories, I presume?"

"Uh... a little?" says Newt. Fuck his voice is shrill, and it cracks on the last syllable. How is Hermann so forcefully calm right now?  "I didn't, like, focus too hard on any one memory."

"Please do.” Does Hermann even realise how close he is? There’s barely a yard between them.

"I'm sorry?" Newt basically squeaks.

"Please try to see yourself through my eyes. Think about the moment I found you after you drifted for the first time."

Newt's not actively searched out a specific memory before, but he tries now. Even closes his eyes, and tries not to get distracted about the man right in front of him. He thinks about the experience of drifting, of waking up on the floor with Hermann crouched over him, his panicked voice in his ear. 

It’s like he can see it in two perspectives overlaying themselves: his blurry vision, looking at Hermann, and himself, as viewed by Hermann. He focuses on the second, and is almost overwhelmed with the panic and gut-wrenching terror that Newt’s gone, that Newt’s left Hermann alone.

Hermann was worried about him. Hermann was significantly more worried than Newt imagined, and he feels like an absolute jackass for putting Hermann through that. He - Hermann in the memory, that is - had shaken Newt, had curled his own body around him protectively, taken Newt’s face in his own hands. Newt realises, then, that Hermann finds the idea of Newt’s death just as terrifying as Newt finds the idea of Hermann’s. 

He opens his eyes. Hermann is looking at him expectantly, but Newt doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say. His voice is shaky when he speaks. “Wow, I didn’t realise you cared that much.”

Hermann shakes his head. “Obviously. Try another memory.”

He’d said the wrong thing, then. “Like what?”

There’s a long pause, and then Hermann sighs deeply. He sounds exasperated, but somehow Newt doesn’t think it’s directed at him. “Frankly, you could chose any of our interactions from the past decade.” 

Newt takes that as a challenge, sticking his tongue between his teeth and frowning as he thinks. Hermann’s eyes follow the movement, which is… yeah, it’s pretty great. There’s a memory rising to the surface, something about his thinking face, and he locates it easily. 

It’s one of Hermann’s, and it can’t be that old because they’re in the current Shatterdome lab. He’s looking at himself leaning over the very desk he’s currently backed against. Hermann, memory-Hermann, appears to have been very focused on Newt’s face. Specifically his mouth, which is doing the same tongue-between-teeth thing Newt does whenever he’s thinking hard. The word that comes to mind is _studying,_ and when Newt from the past jumps up, banging his hands on the table and grinning manically, Newt’s able to remember exactly what’s going through Hermann’s mind. 

_God I love him._

He hasn’t closed his eyes this time, didn’t need to, but he focuses on Hermann again, thinks of the present. His heart is pounding and he’s not entirely sure if he’s just experienced a true memory or a fantasy, only that’s a lie, he knows it came from Hermann’s mind. Only that’s mad. Because that’d mean- Well, that’d mean…

“Christ,” he murmurs. Hermann’s lips twitch. 

“Caught on, have you?”

“Christ, Hermann.”

“Quite,” says Hermann, glancing away. 

On impulse, Newt catches his head in his hands, and Hermann looks at him steadily. “Newton-“

“Are you in love with me?” The words are out before he can think of a delicate way to phrase them, and for one crushing second he think’s Hermann’s going to react badly. The corners of Hermann’s eyes crinkle in amusement, which makes him look, like, ten thousand times more attractive in Newt’s personal opinion. 

“I suppose… yes. Yes, I rather think I am.”

“Dude,” Newt breaths. “Like, I know we’ve been at each other’s throats for - what? - literally years, but I’ve always thought you were hot as fuck.” He flushes a little as he says it, which is cool, because Hermann does too. His voice picks up speed, and he keeps talking, “And then for a while I just really wanted, like, hate sex, but then you broke up with your girlfriend and I’m not even going to lie here, Herms, I kinda hated her just on principle. Which i guess was because I’d always secretly really liked you? Only I guess it’s not secret, now. Yeah. I, uh, feel the same way and stuff.”

Hermann’s still looking at him steadily, and Newt only then realises he’s still kind of holding Hermann’s face? And that his heartbeat has gotten kind of erratic and Hermann looks almost expectant and he should really do something about the face holding thing, so he pulls Hermann’s face towards his and mashes their mouths together. Hermann’s cane clatters to the floor for the second time in two days.

Hermann’s lips are warm and moist on his, and their noses press together, which is probably New’s fault, since he kind of forgot about tilting his head. He kisses enthusiastically, and Hermann responds with equal enthusiasm, which is awesome. Only he has to pull away too soon, giving himself a moment to breath. 

Hermann makes an irritated noise, grabbing Newt’s already loose tie and pulling him back for more. This time, Newt remembers to tilt his head to the right, and they’re kissing again. Hermann, it turns out, is a surprisingly aggressive kisser, pushing Newt backwards so his back is arching over the table, his hands clutching the ledge for support. Which is _really_ hot, but also, you know, _ow_. And it can’t be all that comfortable for Hermann either, leaning over him like that. He holds out for a minute or so though, a little distracted by Hermann biting his lower lip, before pushing him away. 

“Maybe we should, you know, not do this here?” he says, a little dazed. 

“We’re hardly likely to be bothered,” says Hermann, his eyes following Newt’s every movement. He looks absolutely wrecked. Well, wrecked for Hermann, which just means his eyes are a little too dark and his cheeks are pink. Newt runs a hand through Hermann’s hair, just to mess it up, to complete the image. Hermann catches his lips for another second when he does so. It’s surprisingly playful, and Newt ends up grinning, which kind of puts kissing on hold.

“Ok, but like, brainwave,” he says, pushing Hermann back with a light hand on his chest. He puts his hands back on the edge of the desk and jumps up so he’s sitting on the surface, legs hanging. “Now we’re the same height, and you can balance properly. Come here.”

Usually, Hermann would object to him sitting on the desktop, but he has no such objections now, the dirty hypocrite. He takes a step closer and leans forward, and Newt guesses he could just lean in and meet him but, well, Newt’s always been a bit of an asshole and it’s much more fun to just grab Hermann's waist and pull him closer, so he's in between Newt's legs. He misjudges it a little, though, and Hermann surges forward, his face ending up less than an inch from Newt's before he stabilises himself.

“Hey," Newt breaths, before tilting his head (success!) and pressing his lips to Hermann's again hungrily. Hermann makes a noise that Newt's not sure is words or not, and then woah. Ok. Hermann's tongue is very much in his mouth, which is both an interesting development that physically Newt very, very much likes, and one that mentally freaks him out a bit. He pulls away, only vaguely aware of a little string of saliva that stretches and breaks between them. 

“Um," he says. He's breathless. When did he become breathless? A little crease appears between Hermann's eyebrows.

"Are you alright?" he asks, then, "Is this ok?" 

"Yeah, it's just..." Newt's not sure what it is, but it's suddenly got very real and he's feeling a bit like he's just been spun around very fast. "I need a moment." 

"Take as long as you need,” says Hermann, and he goes to step back. Newt traps him with his knees. 

"No, stay,” he says, "I'm being dumb." 

He can tell Hermann holds back a retort, probably a biting agreement, and he appreciates the effort. It’s just that suddenly Newt is getting exactly what he wants, which never happens, and he needs a moment to know it's real. 

Unbidden, the memory of that crushing fear and guilt and desperation when Hermann found him on the floor springs into his mind again. Presumably, Hermann told him to think of it because it showed Newt how much Hermann cared. But hadn't Hermann had a dream through his eyes? Hadn't that been what started this whole impromptu kissing thing? 

"What did you dream about last night?" he says, and Hermann goes very, very red. Newt laughs. "Was it dirty?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"No!" 

"So that's a definite yes,” says Newt casually. He's enjoying himself, teasing his lab partner is more fun when said partner is standing between his legs. Also, sitting on the table means that Newt is finally a teensy bit taller than him. 

"If you must know, I had multiple dreams. One was you recording that message. One was a replay of an argument we had a month ago, about my missing chalk." Newt remembers the argument, and knows immediately why it's significant. Newt had been hiding the chalk around the lab just to wind him up, because he was bored and nobody was taking his findings seriously. And because he found Hermann really cute when he got mad, and the quiet fury thing he did when Newt pushed him to the end of his tether was both intimidating and hot as fuck, in a scary kind of way. If Hermann had been in his brain, he'd have known that was the reason. Check box one, Newt has a huge fucking crush on you.

“Any others?" he says, imagining something equally ridiculous. But Hermann's quiet when he speaks again.

"The only other was - well, I believe it was what you call a ‘down day’. You - ah - expressed some harsh words to me when I came into your room to find you. From your eyes, I was able to fully understand the reason you didn't want me around." 

Newt doesn't really need to hear much more. On his down days, he has - had - a habit of dwelling on his unrequited relationship with Hermann. His belief that Hermann (which was, by extension, _everyone_ ) didn’t find him desirable had featured heavily in his moments of self-loathing, particularly recently. 

Hermann clears his throat noisily. "As you can see, Newton, I feel exactly the same way about you. So, uh, you need not let that particular delusion trouble you anymore." 

Newt doesn't quite know what to say, but for once that means he says nothing at all. Instead, he wraps his arms around Hermann's shoulders, letting his head fall forward so their foreheads are touching. "I, like, love you or whatever,” he says, cringing at his own tone. They stay there, quiet, for a long moment, before Newt leans back. "Can we forget about this conversation and kiss some more?" 

Hermann looks at the heavens in what Newt takes as fond exasperation. "I suppose,” he says, pressing a kiss to Newt's temple. "Or we could go and get lunch. Have you eaten yet?"

"Well, no, but -" 

Hermann breaks out of his leg-trap so easily Newt doubts he was ever truly trapped in the first place. He picks up his cane. "Let's get something to eat." 

Newt whines at the loss of contact and slides off the desk, immediately lacing his fingers with Hermann's other hand. "Only if we can hold hands when we enter the mess hall and watch everybody loose their shit." 

"You greatly overestimate how much other people care about our personal affairs." 

"Then you've got nothing to loose,” says Newt firmly. "Although saying that, they may already know." 

"How, exactly?" says Hermann, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, Raleigh Beckett saw me doing the walk of shame out your bedroom this morning, so depending on if he's told Tendo, either nobody or everybody's already heard about it."

Hermann lets out a long suffering sigh that makes Newt squeeze his hand tighter and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

"It'll be fine, we're rock stars,” he says, starting toward the door with Hermann in tow. "We've saved the world, got the metaphorical girl, and now it's time to face the screaming masses." 


End file.
